Popsicles and Playgrounds
by Puck's Favourite Girl
Summary: Tony Stark: MIT student, tech prodigy, SI inheritor, "world's funnest baby-sitter." According to Peter anyway. Or, the college baby-sitter AU no one asked for.


"No I get it dad, no need to repeat yourself. I'm a disappointment and not good enough for your legacy. You made that crystal clear, congratulations. Truly Hallmark worthy." Tony snipes, his hand shaking as he clicks the phone shut.

His jaw can't unclench. He's so sick of this. He's so- he's so tired. He's exhausted from the back and forth and the constant circle their lives had become. His phone slides into his back pocket, he looks around. He doesn't- he doesn't even know where he _is_. He's somewhere off campus- obviously. He's sure his dorm is around here _somewhere_. But honestly, he really isn't all that inclined to look and he doesn't want to go back to his room and see Rhodey's empathetic eyes and he doesn't want to sit in the library and ruminate and he sure as hell doesn't want to be in the common room listening as everyone in the world enjoys their life more than he ever could.

So he walks.

And just…keeps walking.

And what the hell? He's seventeen, in his third year (he could've graduated by now but a secret, small, totally repressed part of him wanted to slide his tassel with Rhodey beside him), completely ignoring his plethora of assignments and therefore has nothing better to be doing than walking aimlessly in Cambridge on what technically is a nice autumn day. Yeah…the trees are orange. A bit red. Some are yellow. There are some nice piles growing on the sidewalks, some birds flying south in an asymmetrical V. Yup. It's all so overly pleasantly pretty and just gosh darn it wonderful.

Tony fucking hates it.

He loves MIT and he loves Rhodey and he loves building every day in the workshop but God he hates his life. Or maybe he doesn't hate it. He's just so tired. _All the time_. And there's nothing new and there's nothing- nothing moving him forward he's just- he's stagnant. He's just still. Trapped. Caught. And he can't do it anymore he just can't. And maybe it's his dad- God it's always his dad- but he's sick of always being kicked by the same old shit and he's sick of doing everything his dad wants and and he's sick of doing what everyone _else_ wants and yeah Tony Stark has never bowed down to anybody, but can he honestly say he chose any of this? This is _his life_\- why the fuck isn't he happy?

Tony kicks a pebble. It stutters across the sidewalk then gets blown into the street, run over by a car. Tony blows a harsh breath. _Figures_.

Okay so fine. His life is just always the same, nothing ever changes, okay fine. Now he's here. At a…at a- Tony looks up, quickly scans the street- okay at a bakery and a convenience store and a sketchy dim sum place, a homey shawarma joint, and a sketchier deli. Alright, cool, cool, cool.

Except, he's not hungry. Not even a little.

Feeling like shit does that to you.

Yeah. He probably is a disappointment. He can't remember the last time someone looked at him like he was- Tony grimaces. He doesn't even want to think it. It's so…well it's gross is what it is. But fuck it. He's already being a little bitch about everything, he might as well just admit that he wishes someone would like at him like he was something precious. Or wonderful. Or just…enough. Being just enough would be great.

Fantastic even.

Rhodey does. Sometimes. But Rhodey knows him now better than any single person in Tony's entire life outside of Jarvis when he was alive. And because Rhodey knows him, he sees every one of his faults and wants better for him. Wants to help Tony grow. And that's great. That's dandy. That's just awesome. But it- well…

Tony looks at Rhodey and sees the goddamn sun.

Rhodey is brilliant and he's throw your head back hilarious and he's witty and he's strong and he's _kind_. Tony doesn't even know if he has flaws. Maybe being too overprotective. Maybe too overbearing. But Tony craves that. Craves it so deeply. And so he looks at Rhodey and has to squint from how bright he shines and Tony wishes he could be as bright as just one bulb. Just that.

He wouldn't dream of being a star.

His feet wander without him really putting any thought into the matter and the air suddenly smells different. Fresher, wilder, lighter. He looks up and the sky is blocked by a canopy of thick foliage. Sunbeams peek through the gaps and the very leaves glitter.

He feels like he's in a fairy tale.

And Tony's never really liked nature. Was never into it. Never appreciated it. But in this exact moment, he's never seen anything more beautiful and he doesn't know why it strikes him right down to his depths but it does and he just keeps staring. Something tugs in his chest and maybe it's longing. Maybe it's hurt. Maybe it's just a childhood wish he tried to lock deep, deep down and he forces it back under, looks back to the ground.

He keeps walking.

He can hear the sounds of kids yelling, laughter ringing in the wind, the little pitter patter of footsteps. He smells the hot-dog stand and the sound of dogs barking as owners threw frisbees and tennis balls. The sun is glowing, gentle, and Tony's skin feels warm. Loved. It's despicably idyllic except _those fucking kids are ruining it_.

There's a group of three boys, they look like they're snot-nosed tweens, thirteen at the max. Tony curls his lip. He hates middle schoolers. God couldn't put demons on Earth so he gave the world preteens instead. And these boys, these stupid, arrogant, obnoxious little twerps were harassing this shrimp of a kid with floppy brown hair and probably the most pathetic little lip wobble Tony had ever seen.

The kids are shoving the boy around, laughing as he tries to swallow his tears and push through them, but they hold out their arms and shove him back down. A few tears dribble past his lashes and the kid is red in the face trying to stop. "Awww are you crying? Wow, what a baby. You stupid _baby_." The first boy jeers.

The second boy laughs and shoves the kid back down when he tries to get up and by this point, Tony has had _enough_. He's tired and angry and full of repressed emotional trauma and other bullshit that taking it out on a bunch of two-bit good for nothing bullies would _really_ make his day. "Hey!" he yells, storming over, chin tilted like he's looking for a fight.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" and when he swears, the kids freeze a little. "You have two seconds to back the fuck away before I show you who the real big dog at this playground is."

The boys stare and the first boy, probably their stupid ring leader, takes on a haughty expression, an air of false confidence about it. "You can't tell us what to do-" he starts to say, before Tony pins him with a stare so dark he could have only learned it from his dad.

He grabs at the boy's shirt and tugs up so that he's barely brushing the ground with his toes. Tony might be smaller than all the other third-years, but he's spent twice as long in the workshops moving part after part and hammering piece after piece. He knows exactly how strong he can be when he tries, and lifting a hundred pound brat off the floor is nothing. Especially not when he's feeling like this. "You won't like me if I have to repeat myself." he says in a deceptively calm voice.

The boy gulps and Tony can see that fake bravado chip away. _Good_, he thinks. The boy slaps at his hands, glaring, "Okay, okay let me go you freak. God." He rips away from Tony's grip, gesturing to his friends and they run off.

Tony watches as they go, "You pick on this kid or anyone else and you'll regret it, you hear me!" if the boys hear him, they make no sound of it.

But Tony knows they did.

And that's enough.

The little boy is still on the ground when Tony turns around, staring up, not in fear anymore, but in a childish wide-eye that plummets him. Something strange takes over him, maybe he's channeling Jarvis. Trying to do his memory proud. But Tony bends down, gives him half a smile. "Hey kid, you good?"

Shyly, the kid nods, looking up at him with wet, uncertain eyes. He's got some scratches on his knees and dirt on his arms and hands where he's been tossed into the ground. That couldn't be fun. Tony sighs, giving him a stern look. "Stay here okay? I'm going to grab some stuff to clean you up."

The kid just stares at him but when Tony glances back, he's standing obediently still. Tony slides a fiver to the hotdog guy, grabs two bottles of water and a bunch of napkins and returns, offering them to the kid. Except he just stares blankly at him and Tony has to unscrew the bottles himself, sprinkling a bit onto the napkins. "This should get the dirt off."

"Oh! Oh yeah. Thank you…" he murmurs, taking the napkins and wiping steadily at his knees.

And okay, the kid's trying his best but he's really just…ineffective. And Tony drops to the floor, gesturing for the kid to join him as he takes the remaining napkins himself, dabbing at his face and elbows. "You gotta scrub a little harder. Really work the grime off." Tony remarks, trying to ignore the kid's shy half stares.

"Oh…okay, I can do it now. I'm not a baby anymore." he says authoritatively, holding out his hand.

Tony pauses, squinting his eyes and then glancing all around him as though suddenly remembering children shouldn't be unsupervised. "Aren't you like, five? Where are your parents?"

"I'm not five," he asserts, "I'm seven and a half." he says proudly.

Like Tony really knew the difference between a five and a seven year old. There's something warm in his placating stare though and the kid seems to pick up on it from how he perks up a little. "Okay so you're seven. Incredible. Pretty sure you still need parents though."

Peter shrugs, picking at the grass. "I don't have parents. Uncle Ben said they died in a plane. So I live with him now. And Aunt May. But they have work so I'm supposed to be with Carly. But she lost me."

Tony gapes. Not really knowing where to go from all that. Kids are just- so freaking weird. They have no real concept of anything. Don't know anything about social etiquette or TMI or like, needing to have at least a level four friendship to unlock each other's tragic backstories.

Tony lets his knees fall from under him, sitting properly across from the kid who's still plucking at the greenery like it had personally offended him. "This Carly, she your baby-sitter?"

He looks up finally, giving him a sad look. "Yeah. But I don't think she likes me very much."

"Well that's dumb." Tony says, like he was commenting on something obvious like the sun in their faces.

He's surprised.

At himself.

Which is…also weird.

The kid looks surprised too. But cutely so. He ducks his head, shy. "So she lost you? She left you? By yourself?" and Tony kinda hates this Carly chick, whoever the hell she is.

The kid's all bruised up and probably just went through his least traumatic, but still traumatic life experience, because she decided to what, gab with her stupid boyfriend or something? And the kid's looking all flustered and apologetic. "I don't know! I stayed where she told me to stay but then she left to get something from the store and then she didn't come back but I moved a little so maybe it's my fault but then I got lost and then those boys found me and they were being mean to me and I didn't know what to do but then you saved me!" and he looks so endeared, like what Tony did was something amazing, utterly incredible.

He looks like a goddamn chipmunk with absurdly cute cartoon eyes. Or something. "I didn't do anything." Tony mumbles but the kid shakes his head.

"Whaaat? You were so cool! You were like hey! And then you said a bad word but it's okay because they were mean and sometimes Ben says bad words to bad guys too and then you were like go away! And they were like no! And then you got all scary but in a cool way and then they ran!" And his hands are flying all over the place as he retells the moment and he looks so excited, so _involved,_ that Tony almost believes he was as cool as the kid thinks.

"Well they were being giant wastes of space, so." Tony shrugs, "I don't feel that bad about it."

Tony looks around again, at all the kids with their parents and looks back at the chipmunk. "You got a name kid?"

"Peter! Peter Benjamin Parker!" he grins.

And Tony really doesn't know why he does it, but he sticks out his hand and says, "I'm Tony."

And Peter stares at his hand for a few seconds before reaching out to shake it, his hand so small in Tony's own.

"Well lest I be accused of kidnapping, we should probably get you back with your baby sitter."

Peter deflates a little, letting out a little "Oh."

Tony ignores how cute that is. "Don't suppose you know her number or anything?"

Peter stares blankly. "How about your aunt? Or your uncle?"

Peter chews on his lip, thinking very intently, his nose all scrunched up. "Umm I think…there was definitely a five-four-five and umm…maybe a two?" his face falls, "I'm sorry Mr. Tony, I was supposed to memorize their numbers a long time ago but I keep forgetting them." he looks down, like he's expecting to be reprimanded but Tony just ruffles his hair.

"I'm seventeen and I couldn't tell you what the first number of either of my parents' numbers are. Don't sweat it."

But the fact remained, he still had a kid he needed to get home somehow without really all that much to go on. "What about your aunt and uncle's work. What do they do?"

Peter lights up and Tony sees the pride and admiration he has in his eyes so clearly it hurts. "Ben is so cool! He's a cop and he finds bad guys and he's like, a superhero." Peter says, very seriously, "And May is a nurse! She saves people's _lives_." And he looks very intent. Very serious.

Tony smiles, "Wow. They sound like very important people."

Peter nods fiercely. "Very very important."

So Tony weighs his options. Call the cops and then get arrested probably. Or try his luck with nearby hospitals. He clicks tongue. Well _that's_ a no-brainer. "Do you know which hospital your aunt works at Pete?"

"Umm…the mountain one!"

The…the _what_? But then Tony thinks about it and he can't help but snort. Mount Sinai. Twenty minutes from here. He looks at Peter again, at that overly endearing, try hard face and resists the urge to ruffle his hair again. _The mountain one_.

Jeez, that's cute.

"Okay, sit tight kid, I'll get you home." But he's looking so beat up and Tony kinda hates that he came to the park just to get bullied so he pulls out his wallet and hands him a twenty dollar bill. "See that ice cream cart over there? Go get yourself something while I call your aunt. You deserve it for helping me stick it to those assholes."

Peter's eyes go wide at the money. "Really? I can get any kind?"

Tony snorts, "Knock yourself out kid. Just don't leave my sight. Can't have you lost twice in one day can we?"

Peter nods, extremely serious, and carefully folds the bill into his hand where it's clenched tightly. Tony googles the hospital number, waiting for the receptionist to pick up. "Hi can I speak to May Parker? It's about her nephew, Peter."

The receptionist, nice girl, manages to snag May from wherever she was pretty quickly. "Is this May?"

"Yes, who is this?" and she's not rude necessarily, but she's definitely bordering on I'm gonna lose it unless I know exactly what's going on in ten seconds and Tony's kinda surprised she hired someone like Carly to look after her kid.

"My name's Tony Stark and I found your nephew Peter being bullied by some kids in the park. I got rid of the little idiots but when I tried to bring him back to his parents he said he was with his baby sitter, Carly? And that she had left him alone and he got lost. And he doesn't know her number but he knows where you work so…"

It sounds like she's hyperventilating on the other line. "Oh my god. Oh my god is he- is Peter _okay_? Jesus what the- what the fuck. She lost my kid? She _lost_ _Peter_?!"

"Ms. Parker he's okay. Scout's honor. He's buying ice cream from the cart right now. I can keep you on the line if you want to talk to him-"

"Yes. Please. I need to- yes. And thank you." she says suddenly, like she's just remembering something, "For calling me. I don't know what I would do if- if-" she breaks off and Tony knows in that moment that May is a good guardian. That she loves Peter. Tremendously. Truly. Epically.

And he's grateful too suddenly. That he's the one who found him.

"I can bring him to the hospital. If you want." he offers and it's so uncharacteristic of him but so was every other fucking thing so far, so why not this.

She pauses and Tony can tell she's conflicted over how far her trust of a stranger goes. "Mount Sinai, that's just a bus ride away."

"Okay." she finally says. "I really can't afford to leave my shift but I…"

"I'll bring him to you in twenty minutes tops."

Peter is bounding over, holding two sealed popsicles in his hands, a wide smile on his face. "Here's Peter now," he holds out the phone, "Hey kid, wanna talk to your aunt?"

Peter's expression falls, "Is she mad?" he whispers.

"Not at you. She's worried about you though." And that triggers the kid's pure little heart and he trades the popsicles for the phone, holding it tight.

"May don't be worried. I'm okay! Mr. Tony saved me!"

And shit, Tony wants to just- he doesn't even know- melt or something? 

"No, I don't know where she went. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose her." But May must have set him straight on whose fault it all really was because Peter looks cowed, pulling absently at his curls. "Okay. Yes. Mr. Tony's taking me? Okay. Okay, bye May. See you soon. Love you lots too."

He says it with so much ease. Like saying and hearing I love you's was just as normal as breathing. Tony thinks it's probably just as necessary. We just never knew we were suffocating until it was too late.

Kids are weird. He knows that. But kids are also…well they're better than us aren't they? In a lot of ways. Better at expression and kindness and a genuine open-heartedness that the world hasn't stifled yet. Peter turns to him, holds out his phone. "Trada ya." he says, with a toothy grin and Tony can't remember the last time he was that unabashedly joyful.

Tony passes over both popsicles and Peter frowns. "That one's for you!" he says insistently, pushing one of the popsicles back.

Tony's surprised, just kinda staring. "Eating ice cream's no fun alone. But I didn't know if you liked chocolate or vanilla so I just bought us strawberry popsicles because everyone loves popsicles." he says matter of factly.

"Open it, open it!" Peter chants and Tony peels back the plastic to reveal an artificially pink icy mess that is somehow the most appealing dessert he's ever seen.

"Are we going to go to May's now?" Peter asks, lips stained pink already.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, let's go kid. We can still catch the ten." And like it's just habit, Peter holds up his hand, not even looking at him, and Tony feels something inexplicable inside him.

It hits him in that moment, that he's never held a baby. Seventeen years old and he's never cradled a newborn. Or smelled that weird newborn smell everyone raved about. He's never piggy-backed a toddler or lifted them high in the air. He's never chased a four year old around the kitchen as they shrieked. He's never walked a child down the street.

But Peter holds up his hand like he's absolutely confident that Tony is the responsible kind of adult that will look both ways and make sure the walk sign flashes. He holds up his hand like Tony is a grown up, someone to rely on. Like Tony is someone he can trust.

And it's silly. It really isn't that deep. But on a level Peter doesn't even acknowledge yet, he believes in Tony and believes he will get him to where he needs to go and _of cour_se Tony will be able to accomplish this task because he is an _adult_ and he _saved _him from bullies so _of course_ Tony can do anything. He doesn't know about all the failures and his father and his mountain of regrets.

It's the most refreshing thing Tony's ever felt.

He takes Peter's hand and Peter swings it casually as they walk. And Tony licks his popsicle and feels ridiculously domestic. And weird. And it's such an out of body experience, he doesn't even believe it's him. That it's his life he's living right now.

The bus is rickety and old like everything else in the city, but Peter seems perfectly content just staring out the window. He finishes the last of his popsicle, staring sadly at the stick before sighing melodramatically. He holds out his hand, staring pointedly at Tony's own. Unsure where this was all going, Tony hands it to him and watches as he maneuvers the delicate balancing game of walking down the aisle, throwing the sticks into the trashcan. Whatever May and Ben Parker did to raise that kid, it was all right.

Damn.

"Do you have a job too?" Peter asks randomly, tearing his eyes away from a particularly bright billboard to stare at Tony.

"Nah. I go to school here. MIT."

Peter's eyes go wide. "OOHHHH that's so cool! I wanna go to MIT too!"

Tony's lips quirk up, "Yeah?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I wanna build super cool robots that can like, do all my chores for me because sometimes I wanna help May but I also wanna play with my Lego and I get so distracted that I keep playing and then May gets disappointed at me and that makes me sad."

He looks glum for all of two seconds before his giddiness bursts through again, "But! If I make a robot, then it can do all our chores and then we can all play Lego together."

"That sounds like a pretty solid plan squirt. You definitely belong at MIT."

"Do you built robots?"

"Super cool ones." Tony confirms.

If possible, Peter's eyes go wider and Tony _swears_ he sees stars in there. And it strikes him, in that very second, that Peter makes him feel like he's just the coolest person on the planet. Like he's valuable beyond compare, wise beyond his years, limitless and undefeatable. And it's…it's just so different. So fundamentally, utterly different than every other way he's been looked at before in his whole life and in a sickening turn of events he feels something close to insanely emotional bubble up inside him.

Peter's practically bouncing in his seat, gripping Tony's sleeve. "Like what! Like what!"

"I'll show you, if you want." Tony pulls out his phone, scrolling through until he finds what he needs.

It's a test video, of DUM-E being operational for the first time. In his entire life, it's probably the first moment Tony ever felt truly proud of something. Something he did entirely on his own for his own reasons and something that turned out fucking wonderful no matter what anyone else said.

Peter is in awe the whole time, his fingers clutching Tony's shirt tighter. "That's so cool." he breathes, "Wow. WOOWWW. You're like, a real robot scientist! An umm- umm inventor! Yeah! Like Belle's dad." he glances up, "You know, like in Beauty and the Beast?" and Tony just nods weakly, trying not to laugh, "That's so cool Mr. Tony! When I grow up, I wanna be like you!"

Tony's eyes widen, caught off guard. He coughs, sliding to the next video to distract Peter from his early mid-life crisis but in a good way? He doesn't even know what's happening with him right now. He's just- he's just overwhelmed. No one's…no one's ever said that before. No one's ever even implied he could be worth aspiring to.

His father's words echo in his head and Tony can't help but feel a huge surge of _fuck you _because what did he know? What did Howard know about anything? When had he inspired anyone to do anything except out of fear. Useless, disappointing, never amounting to anything. What did those words mean, in the face of this shameless admiration from a kid who just saw a robot and thought wow that's cool, let alone having any awareness of the breakthrough that it was and the complexity of everything right down to the name.

Yeah. DUM-E is cool. Super fucking cool. And he is _Tony's _and Tony has a million and one more ideas and he is a goddamn _inventor_.

The mechanical voice announces their stop and Tony pulls the yellow string. "This is us kid. Maybe I'll show you the rest later."

Peter looks disappointed, but hands back Tony's phone quickly enough, standing close next to him as they wait at the back doors. It's kinda cute, the kid pressing himself against his leg to avoid all the strangers clustered around them. The doors finally open and Tony keeps a hand on Peter's shoulder as they exit with the rush. He's pretty confident he knows the way to the hospital from here and the two of them walk in companiable silence broken only by Peter's commentary about the passing shops and restaurants.

"And that one over there sells the best hot chocolate in the whole city!" Peter declares, pointing energetically at a little hole in the wall.

Tony can't remember the last time he had hot chocolate. Or anything that wasn't just a straight up coffee for that matter. But he smiles, looking deep in thought. "Wow. The best huh? That's a pretty big prize, you sure you did your research."

Peter nods, looking extremely certain. "I'm sure of it. They give you whipped cream without making you pay extra and they put exactly four mini marshmallows and that's the perfect amount."

"Obviously." Tony says, trying not to laugh.

"Obviously." Peter copies, looking delighted at the word.

When Tony enters the hospital, there's a beautiful woman, mid-thirties probably, with long brown hair and a cute upturned nose pacing in circles in the lobby. "May!" Peter cries, throwing himself in her direction.

The woman- May, Tony supposes- turns around, face lighting up in pure relief as she crouches down to squeeze him against her chest. "Peter!" she cries, face buried in his hair.

Tony stands behind awkwardly, fingers running through his hair in the absence of anything better to do. "I'm so glad you're okay." May says, pulling away to inspect him closely.

Satisfied that he was alright, she looks up, locks eyes with Tony and just scrutinizes him for what feels like a very long fifteen seconds. She stands, Peter trailing after her as she takes Tony's hand and squeezes. "Thank you. For finding him." Her sincerity makes something choke inside him.

But Tony is nothing if not great at brushing past feelings that threatened to hold him back and he stretches his lips into a lazy half-smile. "No need to thank me. Taking down jerks with big egos is a hobby of mine."

May quirks a lip before scowling. "I just can't believe Carly would do that. Of all the stupidly irresponsible things. Anything could have happened if you hadn't been there. Or worse- if someone else had-" she stops, looks down at Peter and just brushing her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah…I'd recommend getting a new one." Tony says and May's expression falls.

"You have no idea how long it took me to find _this_ one. You'd think in a city crawling with college kids it'd be easier to find someone but _nooo_." she sighs, gives him a tired smile, "I don't suppose you want to." she jokes.

Peter practically explodes. He grabs onto May's leg, jumping so fasts Tony's sure he's going to give himself vertigo, "May _please_! Mr. Tony's so cool! He builds robots! He showed me on the bus and he just _talks _to it and then it _moves_. Isn't that so cool!"

May stumbles from his weight on her leg, laughing slightly. "That's really cool Peter, but I don't think Tony can do that…"

"Actually-" Tony cuts off, actually _what?_

But Peter's looking at him with those wide excited eyes and Tony feels _adored_ for the first time in his life. Like he was some kind of superhero or something. And he thinks back to his dad and every single syllable that tore right through him and buried themselves in his heart so all the red turned black and bitter. And he thinks about how happy he was, in a weird, tired sort of way, bringing the kid all the way here. And how cool it would be to teach a kid something and then watch them grow with it and use it and change it and make it better. How incredible it is to watch someone grow.

And he said hadn't he? That he was craving something different.

"I could…I've never baby-sat before. And I know you just met me. But I can get you references and a criminal record check. And I can tutor him- I study engineering at MIT. I can even bring him in to see the labs, maybe he can mess around a bit in there too."

Peter gasps so hard his hands fly to his mouth.

May takes a look at Peter, then back at Tony. "That's…that's a really nice offer. But I don't know you."

"You could get to know me." Tony offers, shrugging in that shy way he did in the few times he was ever actually uncomfortable.

May peers into his eyes like she's trying to read his soul and slowly, a smile blooms. "Alright Tony. Let's go get to know you."

Trying not to look taken aback, he follows her as she starts walking, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. There's something about you…" she smiles, "I'm not saying anything for sure yet, but I don't know…"

One Month Later

Tony pulls up at the Kiss and Ride in a shiny convertible, sunglasses reflecting the light as he ignores all the staring moms. The bell rings and a rush of students storm out the doors, ushered by concerned teachers and supervisors. Peter comes bursting through, smiling wide when he sees him. "Tony!" he yells, throwing open the car door.

"Easy there squirt, you're gonna blow a gasket." Tony laughs, watching to make sure Peter clicked his seat belt in properly.

"Sunglasses please!" Peter sings and Tony hands him a second matching pair that he eagerly slips on.

"All set?" Tony asks, already shifting gears.

"Time to fly!"

Tony parks at the Parker's guest lot, using the house key in Peter's backpack to let themselves in. Peter throws his bag on the floor, running into his bedroom before Tony holds up a hand. "Cease and desist."

Peter's socks skid as he stops. "Homework first."

Peter turns around, pout forming, mouth open to whine before Tony beats him to it. "Homework and then we can work on the thing."

Peter lights up, "You promise? Because you said that last time but then you spent all our time trying to make dinner."

"Excuse you. I _provided_. I was being a _provider_." Tony retorts, offended.

"We could've just bought pizza!"

"One day you're going to understand what the true college experience is and be just as sick of pizza as I am."

"I'm never growing up!" Peter yells, zooming into his bedroom to get his notebook.

"I regret showing you Peter Pan."

But Tony smiles anyway, setting up the kitchen table with the stuff in Peter's schoolbag. For the most part, Peter never really needed any help. And it was never even a lot, which made sense considering he was only in the second grade, but still. Routines were good for kids. Apparently. At least that's what he'd been told anyway.

Peter makes a dent on some worksheets while Tony whirls through his coding assignment. They work in a nice quiet, interrupted only by Peter closing his duo-tang up and pushing back his chair so he could peer behind Tony's shoulder. "What's that?" he asks, "It's so colourful."

"It's code. It's like instructions to make a computer do stuff."

Peter's mouth forms an oh as he tries to take in everything that's happening. "So what are you trying to do?"

"Well me, nothing. The assignment is to find the flaw."

"That's weird." Peter wrinkles his nose.

"You don't know the half of it kid." And Tony pushes his laptop shut before whirling around and grabbing Peter from his perch, spinning him around.

Peter shrieks with laughter as Tony dances him across to the living room before tossing him on the couch. "Again! Again! Again!"

"Sorry Pete, I'm too tired, too old…" Tony says regretfully, dramatically frowning with a woe is me hand placed ever so carefully over his forehead.

Peter looks crestfallen, looking like he's about to give in when Tony dives for him again, spinning him around and then launching him onto the cushions. Peter screams, raising his arms to go again. Tony throws him onto the couch until he literally can't move his arms anymore and he collapses next to Peter. "Hey, you can't be tired yet. We have to do the thing!"

"Are all children tyrants, or is it just you?" Tony teases, pinching Peter's cheek as he puffs them up.

Peter pushes against Tony's shoulder, but he's so light it hardly makes a difference. "Tonyyyy, Tony, Tony, To-nyyyy."

"Peeeter, Peter, Petey-pie, Peter Pan."

"Hey." Peter grins, plopping one little hand atop of Tony's mouth. "That's cheating."

Tony grins from behind Peter's fingers. "Mmm smmsm mm." he dramatically mumbles and Peter pulls his hand away laughing.

"Ok fine. Grab my phone, put the playlist on, let's do this."

Peter cheers, high-tailing it off the couch to race to the table, plucking Tony's phone deftly while Tony went into the closet to pull out their project. As the child appropriate rock music burst in the apartment, Peter beams as Tony unveils the Death Star Lego set. It's five hundred pieces, way more than Peter could ever do on his own, but still less than the one thousand one he saw and Peter had never been more excited to do anything ever in his _life_.

Unfortunately for him, he struggled with picturing all the tiny pieces coalescing into one whole. Enter Tony. He carefully takes out their well organized pieces in their little plastic bags from the box and sets out their base. "Okay padawan, shall we begin?"

Peter claps his hands.

Tony guides Peter through the process, never quite doing it himself, and always giving Peter the opportunity to try his own strategy first. Tony thought it would be tedious, when May first suggested he help the kid out, but there was something so ridiculously gratifying when the light shone in Peter's eyes when he clicked the right pieces together and the excitement that grew the higher up they built. Tony imagines what his life would have been like if his father had been the one to teach him these things, teach him what he knew about mechanics and innovation and engineering instead of Tony figuring it out all on his own.

Peter sticks out his tongue when he works, scrutinizing the pieces in his hands. He has to catch himself from looking too fond as he stares. Howard couldn't have loved him, Tony thinks, if he had willingly missed out on this feeling. To watch a child navigate the world and triumph in their little parts of it is humbling in a way. Made Tony feel smaller. Like the world had shrunk and his problems with it.

At first, he had no idea what to expect when May had called him asking him to come on as a baby-sitter. He thought it would be tiring and fun and something to piss off his dad with. Except that, from the second he walked into the apartment, he got swept up in a life far away from his own and everything seemed unimportant here. He wasn't worried about kicking Stanford's ass at the robotics competition, or the midterms he had coming up, or the way Howard talked to him. Kids are demanding. They have needs and wants and can only ever accomplish 40% of them without an adult and Tony finds himself swept away, part of Peter's world.

And he likes it there.

Tony gets up, ruffles Peter's hair as he goes. Peter grins up goofily at him, humming to himself as he turns back to his toy. Tony heads into the kitchen, boils some water, sets out two mugs. He mixes in a generous spoonful of Rolo Hot Chocolate Mix, adds exactly four marshmallows and swirls some whipped cream on top.

"Drink break?" Tony asks as Peter cheers.

They sit on the floor together, leaning against the couch as they take small sips from their cups. "I'm glad you found me in the park." Peter randomly says, a little whipped cream mustache on his face.

"You got a little something on your face bud," Tony points at his mouth and Peter struggles to lick everything off, "But yeah I guess I'm sorta happy with how it all turned out." He teases.

"_Hey_." Peter tries to glare but it comes out all wrong and it's so adorable Tony kinda wants to smack himself, "May says if you don't have anything nice to say then you shouldn't say it."

"Wise woman." Tony agrees.

"Well I actually have something nice to say. Do you wanna hear it?"

Tony turns to him, giving him his full, unadulterated attention, batting his eyes comically. Peter's lip quirks up. "Oh wait. I made something to say with this. Wait here Tony!" he commands as though Tony could really go anywhere else.

Peter slams his room door shut and Tony can hear him fiddling around before he pokes his head out, "Close your eyes!"

"Close my _what_?"

"Your eyes!" he gestures emphatically at his own and Tony gives him a skeptical look but relents.

He hears Peter get closer, trying to mask an excited giggle. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Tony's eyes open and his heart hiccups. Peter's giving him the biggest, cheesiest grin as he thrusts out a sloppily painted mug. It's white, except Peter's painted it all red in mismatched lines and in gold slanted writing, World's Funnest Baby-Sitter.

Tony's heart bursts and he just knows that there is nothing he wouldn't ever do for Peter.

Tony would take a bullet for him.

He would beat the shit out of a million bullies for him.

He'd build him a _real_ Death Star if that would make him happy.

He takes the cup and hopes his hands don't tremble. He's never felt an endearment like this. He's never had an adoration this sweet and untainted by him. He grips it tight, examines it all over. "You're an artist _and_ inventor? That's just not fair."

Peter clasps his hands behind his back. "D'you like it? May helped me make it."

"I'm gonna drink from it every day." Tony promises.

Peter's eyes glitter. "Even in the lab?"

"_Especially_ in the lab."

"Cool!"

And then Peter falls into his chest, arms looping around his neck. And Tony just stares wide-eyed before slowly, his arms wrap around him too. He hugs Peter tightly. Closes his eyes. In Peter's world, Tony is necessary and needed and capable. In Peter's world he is admired and loved and inspiring in a way Tony never thought possible. He is Tony Stark, kid genius, engineering prodigy, inheritor of the Stark legacy. But kids are weird. And taking care of kids is weirder. Because the title he likes best is cupped tightly in his hands and the person he most likes being is who he is, right here, holding the world.


End file.
